by Bea Garth
copyright 2008
The garden dreams of nasturtiums
yellow climbing the walls
Red Empress of India
and poppies, poppies, poppies
opening up laudanum
for the humming birds
whirring that message
zipping into one’s brain
the sunlight
the green leaves
the cats pouncing on crickets
the worms cogitating in the mounds
lifting breast like
as the yellow and green summer squash
trumpet Peter Pans and zucchinis
for us to eat
for us to loll and enjoy our tears
feeding the soil
removing the rocks
squashing the armies
of snails and slugs
hiding under the abalone shells
and river rocks and bricks
lining the garden
circling the apricot tree
and I see you sitting on the grass
as I bend over the breasts
the black/brown mounds
the wire baskets tunneling out
into the sky like scaffolds
rising rising our spirits
our dreams
me in my bare feet
you with your flowered
tight underpants
paint splotched and worn
building the fence
between our yard and the next
a pale blue/gray
echoing the snap beans
the beans we made love amongst
like two empyreans
two nymphs
like satyrs
like the Empress of India
in her red robes and green finery
oh how she smiles
as we eat her flowers
and round scalloped leaves
oh how we smile
as we cut the lemon cucumbers
and oil them
feeling the coolness
reminding me of last year’s
long elongate trumpets of cukes
hanging like dicks
and the witches I shared them with
in our circle circled
by all those red shining tomatoes
reflecting your red and green robes
our delight profound
our delight as we cried
into the earth.
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